


A Gingerbread Heart

by preetkiran1016



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Chirstmas movie fluff, Dessert & Sweets, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hallmark Movie Fic Challenge, Love at First Sight, M/M, Sibling Bonding, Sombra | Olivia Colomar is a Little Shit, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preetkiran1016/pseuds/preetkiran1016
Summary: Hanzo doesn't do holidays.Sadly, Genji didn't seem to get that memo.Two weeks of vacation in the small town of Overwatch spells complete boredom and nonstop pestering from Genji- till a lone bakery catches his eye.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 25
Kudos: 121





	1. Cocoa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ieatgrassalot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ieatgrassalot/gifts).



> Inspired by the incomparable @ieatgrassalot 's art, which ill link here, it's beautiful!!!!! Plz, please look at this amazingness!!
> 
> https://twitter.com/ieatgrassalot/status/1336201131941302272  
> 

Stepping out of Overwatch’s small train station doors, Hanzo frowns. The cold, winter chill cutting through his suit jacket and raising goosebumps where goosebumps were never meant to be raised. 

The small crowd (if one could even call it that) disperses, families and loved ones reuniting and ushering their travel weary companions into running cars or simply walking into the nearby town. 

Leaving him alone, in an assaulting-to-the-eye decorated station, giant, inflatable Santa staring back at Hanzo as if he could give him any answers for his current state.

It’s empty gaze gave him no reassurances.

“Oh, shut up.” He grumbled, turning on his heel away from its vacant eyes and leaving the empty hall.

The last train of the day chugged past him in a slow mockery of his ineptitude. 

For what must be the hundredth time, Hanzo wonders why he has to have come all the way out to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, when his brother couldn’t even arrange a pickup.

Cursing under his breath, he seized his suitcase and wheeled it down the stairs, dialling Genji’s number as the streetlamps came to life above his head.

The phone rings, chiming jingle lifeless against his throbbing head, and Hanzo tilts his head back to stare up at a moonless sky.

“Hey! This is Genji-”

“Genji!”

“-’s voicemail! I’m probably doing something awesome, but leave a message!”

The dial tone screeches in his ear. The last threads of patience snapped from his frayed mental map.

“GENJI!”

* * *

He spends the next twenty minutes wheeling his suitcase along the narrow sidewalks and cobblestone roads of what he assumes is the town square. Google maps opened and pointed in the vaguest notion of what should be Genji’s home.

He can already see he has far too many emails to catch up on.

Hanzo stops, wingtips buried in a small snowbank, and glances up across the square.

When Genji had invited him to visit, he had thought little of it. He knew he’d end up working through the few weeks and barely seeing his brother, as it ended up being whenever Genji came to the city, but—

He hadn’t expected this.

Almost every surface was covered in Christmas Lights and gaudy decorations. Large, inflatable characters positioned along various shops and parkways, conifer trees wrapped in tinsel and sparkling lights, timed with bubbly Christmas carols and pop remixes playing from overhead speakers.

It was all so.... Cheerful.

Merry even.

How could Genji stand it?

It was like he was living inside a Hallmark Christmas card, complete with mistletoe laden hallways and gingerbread monstrosities. 

A few children scuttled by, squealing and throwing ill-formed snowballs. One thumped squarely on his back, pushing him forward and landing him on his ass.

Damn the holidays and the cheer.

His phone blared, the bland jingle tearing him from his slightly less-than-murderous thoughts long enough to answer the call, snapping out a- “What!?”

“Hey Hanzo~” Genji’s voice floated over the airwaves, drawing Hanzo’s frown further down.

“Are you drunk right now?” He huffed, standing straight and brushing off the last bit of snow from his shoulder. 

“What? No. Why?”

“Genji, I swear…”

“...you’re at the train station.”

“I’m far past the train station! I’m in the middle of your migraine inducing town square that looks like it was decorated by a colorblind goose!”

His brother’s peeling laughter washed over the line, and Hanzo sighed, shaking his head. 

“Genji, I swear-”

“Ok ok, I’m sorry I forgot to pick you up-”

“How did you ‘forget’ to pick me up?!” 

“Well, if you’d learn what fun was for once in your life.”

“My personal business is not lacking any ‘fun’ Genji.” Hanzo grumbled, pushing his suitcase over a bumpy cobblestone, “I have plenty of free time.”

“Yeah- I bet.” Genji scoffed.

“That is beyond the point. Are you going to pick me up, or shall I wander the jingle bell nightmare for the rest of the night?”

“Yeah-yeah hold on..”

Hanzo sighed, tuning out Genji’s rambling and taking in the scene of the nearest stores. Most are uninspired, tinsel decked out and employees dressed in elf-reminiscent uniforms.

His eyes slide off them like oil from water.

Until the last. 

The Bakery isn’t totally caked with holiday gore, though there're traces of popcorn garlands and candy-canes. A small Christmas tree decorates the counter, covered in ornaments and flickering lights.

And the most handsome man Hanzo had ever seen behind said counter, packing a cake box in glittering wrapping paper and chatting with his customer. 

Thick, chestnut hair that glimmered under soft yellow lighting; thick, heavily muscled arms covered in hair, and a beard—

The baker (Hanzo can only assume he is a baker, he is working in a bakery) turns; warm, amber eyes meeting Hanzo’s.

Shit.

He waves.

_Shit._

“Helllllo? Earth to Hanzo?” Genji yelled.

“I’ll call you back.”

“Wait- what? Ha-”

He cut the call, Genji’s offended squawking shut mid-syllable. The handsome baker had gone back to his customer, though he kept stealing furtive looks towards Hanzo, as if to make sure he hadn’t run off.

Hanzo’s cheeks flush, the cold seeping deeper into his suit.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to get a slice of cake.

* * *

“Welcome to ‘High Noon Bakery’, the name’s Jesse, how can I help you today?”

The jingle of the door had hardly petered out before Jesse had shot up, hands coming up in greeting and a smile creasing his crow’s feet just a bit deeper. 

If Gabe had been in, he’d have smacked him up the head for his eagerness, but how could he not be? 

The stranger shifted, laser focused on the display of cakes and pastries. It gave Jesse all the more opportunity to let his gaze linger from the haughty cheekbone to the deep-set, glittering eyes. Even his hair, jet black save for little wings of grey and tied back by a long sash of gold.

A handsome sight for sore eyes.

Luckily, Mrs. Sanchez cleared out a few scant moments later, leaving his hands free as he strolled over to the spot where the man hovered, just behind the counter. “Need any help? We got samples if you’d like to try anything.”

The stranger jolts, pretty brown eyes going wide before he shifts, pulling away from the counter and coughing into his fist; eyes meeting Jesse’s for a moment, dropping to glance at Jesse’s lips before coming up again — before he utters a single word.

“Ah, no. I just was not expecting so many…” He trails off.

“So many choices?” Jesse grins. “We got a bit, I like to experiment when the holidays come around. Got any favorites?”

The stranger nods, pointing out a classic- angel cake draped with strawberries and honey drizzle- and Jesse cuts him a hefty slice. 

The silence stretches, the man nodding when asked if he’d like his treat packed, and soon he’s out the door, bell jingling as it shuts behind him.

Hours later, as he’s shutting down for the night, Jesse realizes he never even got a name.

* * *

Genji finds him two blocks away from the bakery, grumbling under his breath and clutching his prize close to his chest.

“Are you going to get in the car, or do you wanna walk the rest of the way?”

Hanzo shoots a (ineffective) glare at his brother, before slinking into the passenger seat, tossing his bag into the back with little regard to the mess it crushed.

“Hey!”

“Consider it your consequences for being so late.” He snaps, clicking his seatbelt into place. “I cannot imagine what would delay you for more than an hour and leave me to the mercy of your candy cane monstrosity of a town.”

“And there’s the eternal Grinch.” Genji snorts, making endless turns into a spiralling cul-de-sac. “I swear, you need to get the stick out of your ass sometime-”

“What I do in my free time is none of your concern, though from your last few visits-”

“Yeah, yeah, all I do is party and you ‘responsibly’ have wine night with your ‘coworkers’.” Genji air quotes, his face scrunched up before he parked the car in front of yet another wildly lit up home, covered in lights that caused the yet brimming migraine to throb even further to resurgence. “Cmon, I got the room setup. You can sleep off the bitch mood and maybe tomorrow you can tell me why you hung up on me in favor of _cake.”_

He thinks of warm amber eyes and a deep baritone voice before deadpanning “I’d always ditch you for cake.” 

Genji’s angered squawking is music to his ears, and he brushes past and lets Genji deal with getting his bag into the eye-sore of a house.

He had a cake to enjoy. 

* * *

There’s one thing Genji knows about Hanzo.

He doesn’t get _cake._

He doesn’t get a cake and hang-up mid-scolding Genji to do so either. 

Hanzo, put bluntly, was a _fancy bitch._ He liked Crème brûlée and eclairs and macarons and whatever other fancy shit Amélie had shipped in from Paris every month.

He didn’t just walk into a small town bakery on a whim.

Something was up. 

And he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Luckily, he already had a lead. 

Typically, after picking at the smörgåsbord of takeout pizza Genji had on offer (and complaining at the grease content), Hanzo decimated his cake, swatting Genji’s hands away.

“Owwwwww. I am wounded! Betrayed!” He whined, “Not even a spoon for your favorite brother?”

“You are my only brother.” Hanzo grunted, “Regrettably. Get your own.” 

“Buuttttttttttttt. Hanzooooooooooooooo. The shop is closed by now.”

“Then it’s your own fault.” 

“Stingy.”

Hanzo flicked icing at his face. 

Rude.

In the aftermath, he sneaks a peak at the labeled box laying askew in the trash can.

High Noon Bakery.

Oh.

He knew what he was going to do tomorrow.

* * *

Overwatch was a gorgeous little town, and they went all out for the holidays. Halloween was a venerable haunted house on every corner and spooks enough to rival Salem. Fourth of July had enough fireworks to light up the sky with a second sun. Valentines, Thanksgiving, Easter, Cinco de Mayo, Dia de los Muertos and a thousand others that had Jesse’s head spinning to keep up, each to their own regalia. 

But Christmas? Oh, they never, ever stopped for Christmas. 

It started up not long after Thanksgiving, and the festivities (and the rush that came with it) didn’t die down until well into New Year.

That was especially true in the week leading up to d-day, the bakery opening to a rush of out of towner’s and locals as Jesse rushed to fill orders. Sombra even came in to help fill in a last-minute shift drop despite her already busy schedule. 

There’s a lot of Spanish and cursing behind the already blazing ovens, so it’s not a surprise that he doesn’t notice Genji bouncing over his counter as the rush ebbs for a few minutes.

“Genji, how many times do I have to tell you? Employees onl-”

“Only behind the counter. Yeah yeah, I know.” Genji waves him off, leaning against the cash register and fist-bumping Sombra. “Hey, while I got you here-”

“While you’re in the way. You mean?”

“Details schmetails. You see, an Asian dude with a suitcase last night? Got a cake? Wears a suit for no reason? Looks like he bit into a lemon and his face stuck that way? Has a tree stuck so far up his ass it’s--”

“Ok ok- I get it, the man’s a stick in the mud. Intentemos otra vez." Sombra cuts him off. "Dude in a super fancy suit, came in for a cake. Got a face that meaner than a snake. Anything I’m missing?” She ticks off each point on a manicured nail, each purple point punctuated by a slight widening of her smirk. 

Genji nods. “Just about sums it up.”

A flash of dark glittering eyes and a golden ribbon flitters in front of Jesse’s eyes.

Well shit.

Jesse sighs, “Didn’t have any sour faced guys, but the rest? Yeah, Handsome fella, blue suit? Yellow sash in his hair? Angel Cake with Strawberries and Honey?”

Genji’s eyes light up like the glittering ball on new years. 

“So he did come here.”

“Genji, will you get to the point? Do you know the guy?” Jesse grumbles, packing the next three loaves for Reinhardt—the man had quite the appetite for sourdough, and was always happy to tell stories of the many (many) wars he had served in. 

Today he was in a rush, barely sparing a hello and goodbye before running out the door. 

“Know him! My brother never comes to visit and the first day he ditches me for cake! My best friend’s cake! The betrayal! Jesse, what did you do?!”

“Me?! Genji you’re off your rocker-” 

“Hanzo doesn’t get any cake. He’s a prissy, picky hoe-”

_Hanzo._

So the man had a name.

“Rude-”

“He’s the rude one! He’s already back to ignoring me!” Genji whines, leaning against the display. 

“Get off, you idiot!”

Genji ignored him, “Everything is work, work, work! Nevermind that Christmas is in a week, or that he’s finally visiting me after I bought my place. I’ve been here five years! He’s just holed up in my guest room and refuses to come out!” 

“Well... maybe the man’s stressed, sounds like he’s got a lot on his plate.”

Genji sputters, eyes going wide. “Dude!”

“What?” He asked, “Man looked stressed. You say he’s always working. Don’t visit. Sounds like he don’t got a bunch of off time. Maybe you need to back off.”

“So let me get this straight.” Genji says. “You think my brother is ‘Handsome’. You think he looks, ‘stressed out’, and that he needs to relax?”

Oh no.

“Now hold on.”

“Jesse.”

“ _Genji…_ ”

“But it’s perfect!” 

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“I dunno Jesse, you are a grouch when you’re single too long.”

“ _Sombra!”_

* * *

Hanzo wakes early, takes his morning run, and returns to an empty home and a calm that only follows a post-bender crashed Genji.

Those days at least he only got pestered for food.

He fit two meetings and a light breakfast before it all came crashing down.

“So. I heard from a little birdie-”

He could feel the headache already.

“Must you?” He sighed, reflexively rubbing his temples in some vain hope that he could impede the incoming storm.

“Oh, must I must~” Genji sings, dropping his backpack on top of Hanzo’s papers; scattering them like mice from an unwieldy cat.

_Throb._

“Had I been born an only child…”

Genji outright laughs, “Oh aniki, but how could I ever have discovered where you went last night? Or more exactly; who you ditched me for.”

_Throb._

“I have no idea what you’re talking about--”

“Jesse says hi by the way. Honestly, cowboys brother? Baker cowboys? If I knew your taste was this bad--”

“You spoilt misbegotten-”

“Oh, my god you did- you ditched me for eye candy!”

“You ditched me first!” 

“You ditched me second!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well, I said so! So there!” 

Hanzo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before standing, grabbing his laptop and whatever else he could in reach, shoving them into a briefcase. 

“Whatcha doin? Gonna go meet your crush?” Genji mocks, and Hanzo burns, grinding his teeth. 

“No. I’m packing.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Genji.”

“Hanzo-”

“Must you always make everything into a mockery?” He snarls, turning on his heel. “I came here, despite my schedule, on your insistence, and this is how you decide to act?”

“And I thought I’d get to spend some actual vacation time with my brother and my fiance in the same place, not watch you attend meetings from my guest room.” Genji snaps back. “I thought you wanted to spend time with me, not throw away more of your life in a job you hate-”

“I’ve had enough of this conversation.” He hissed, “I told you I would have to work while I was here. Whether you listened is not my headache Genji, the same as it was not the last time you were a stain on the Shimada name.”

The silence that falls around them is deafening, and he storms out before it breaks.

* * *

He walks aimlessly, rage seeping out like a popped balloon.

Sometimes he wondered if their arguing would ever stop.

His feet led him to the town square again, the sun already high in the sky, reflecting on the snow and creating a glowing sheet against the ground. 

Thankfully the obnoxious pop music is turned off, traded for classical pouring out of the speakers just overhead of the park benches. 

He takes a seat and gets to work.

* * *

By the time his lunch break comes round, Jesse’s beyond exhausted. 

He’d kicked Genji out post-haste after that debacle, resorting to an emergency Zen call and threats of withholding any and all coffee for the foreseeable future- face flushed red as the ovens and Sombra laughing her ass off. The crowds had swarmed. 

By noon, half the cakes were sold out, including Genji’s brother’s (Hanzo’s) favorite. 

A right shame. 

He’d hoped he’d be able to offer the man another slice if he dropped by.

“Alright cowboy, I’m heading out. Think you can take it from here?” Sombra asked, packing her bag.

“I got it from here. You head on home, thanks for the assist Som.”

“No problem hermano… looks like you’re lucky today.”

“Huh?”

Sombra winks, pointing towards the mini-park and flounces away.

Well, he’ll be darned. 

* * *

Hanzo worked like a madman, rushing through e-mails and making one call after another. 

Satya called him an idiot for continuing to work on vacation, but did not protest his request for processing the forms he sent her.

At least he knew he had some _decent_ friends.

By the time lunch rolls around, his stomach has tied itself into knots from even thinking of going back to the house. 

Perhaps he could find a local restaurant (something healthy at least), and then sulk back to the home when Genji would be out to party in the late evening. 

He knew, though, that it wouldn’t be the case.

He’d have to talk to him, eventually.

But that time isn’t now.

He huffed, moving to pack his bag—

Before a pile of snow falls from the sky and drenches him from head to toe.

The gods curse upon his bloodline.

“Well, that’s just not right. Need a hand there, stranger?”

Oh no.

That voice.

Hanzo peeks up, crumpled and soaked pages half shoved into his bag and hair splayed across his face like a wet rag. 

The baker- Jesse- is standing above him, hand outstretched, blocking out the sun yet shining brighter than any star, with an amused grin on his face.

“Yer Genji’s bro, right? Cmon, I got some towels in the shop, we’ll get you warmed right up.”

He’s helpless but to follow.

* * *

Jesse makes amazing Hot cocoa. 

He’d been ushered past the small dining area, an ‘employee’s only’ sign hanging over a gentle worn door and into the blazing heat of ovens and a kitchen that had seen better days, worn yet clean. 

Jesse’d plopped Hanzo onto a soft chair, wrapped him in a warm throw, and put a searing cup of cocoa in his hands before leaving him to deal with the new rush of customers.

“Just sit right here and warm up. I’ll be right back in two shakes of a horse’s tail.”

That didn’t even make sense.

Did horses shake their tails?

He mindlessly took a sip of the drink, and then another, and another.

It was rich, dark, decadent. Just sweet enough to cut through the bitter dark chocolate and with enough milk to add a sense of richness. 

It reminded him of the smooth dark truffles Amelie brought him once from Paris; smooth, bitter, and draped in gold foil.

He finished the cup within moments, glaring down at the dregs with a hatred that could rival the gods. 

What even was this?

The simple cake he had taken home last night had been spongy and sweet, the light vanilla cream tinged with the tart strawberry jam spotted between each layer.

Who was this man? That was this handsome and could make sweets so lovely?

No. No. Dangerous. There be sharks, Hanzo.

“Well, looks like you’re doin alright there. How’d’you like the Cocoa Hanzo?”

He hummed, turning his attention to Jesse, setting the cup down on the small table. “It was... adequate. Though I would not decline another cup.”

Jesse grins, refilling the cup without complaint and another for himself, taking a seat beside Hanzo, shoulder pressed together in a smooth, warm line.

“Couldn’t stay at home, huh?” Jesse hums, eyebrow quirked.

Hanzo shook his head, “The curse of the holidays, spending time with those you would normally not.”

Jesse nods, “Sibling fight?”

“My brother is not... the easiest to get along with.”

“See, he said about the same for you, but I ain’t seeing it.”

“Smooth talker.” Hanzo balks, hiding his face and chugging a long draught of the cocoa. “The curse of these small towns. Everyone knows everything and everyone. No privacy.”

“Now c’mon there, we ain’t all that bad. I know for a fact I ain’t for getting my nose anywhere else but in a good bit of moonshine.”

“Typical, such unrefined taste.”

“Now that ain’t nice, not much of a holiday guys, are you city-slicker?”

“What gave it away?” He sighed, “was it the lack of red and green flashing clothing?”

Jesse laughs, low and deep, rumbling in his chest. “Nah, but that’d be one heck of a sight Darlin’, it’ll match that ribbon of yours right fine.”

Hanzo grins, small and tentative. 

The night wears on.

Jesse lets him hole up in the back while he works, though Hanzo barely pays attention to his work by the time closing comes around, watching Jesse laugh with his neighbors.

By the time closing comes around, he’s far, far behind, and he couldn’t care any less, having made his way to stand alongside Jesse for the last hour of work.

“Ready to head out, Hanzo?” Jesse grins, holding the door open and bowing slightly, cowboy hat just back on his head after a long day on its perch.

“Yes. Thank you for the assistance today, Jesse.” He murmurs, following him out and watching as Jesse locked up. 

“Ain’t a problem, especially for a handsome fella.” Jesse winks, leaning against the wall, and oh—

Oh.

“Yes, well—I—will be seeing you—”

“Ah, hold on Hanzo.” 

Jesse chuckles, pulling out a small package, wrapped in simple brown paper. “It may not be the same quality that yer used to, but I’ve been working on my technique. Lemme know tomorrow how I did?”

He nods, fingers tight and tearing the gentle paper, voice disappeared somewhere in the ether; before he turns tail, hustling (never running), away.

Jesse’s shout of farewell rushing in his ears all the way home.

* * *

The small Mille-feuille is a little lopsided, the swirls atop its head just visible. But the flavor is perfect, sweet and mellow in perfect ratio, with just a twist of lemon.

He thinks he’s in trouble.

* * *


	2. Macaron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out this art that inspired one of the scenes!!! Made by the immaculate ieatgrassalot!  
> https://twitter.com/ieatgrassalot/status/1336428258859094019/photo/1

The next three days follow the same pattern.

Avoid, Engage, Escape.

He finds himself at the Bakery each time. 

The first day is...awkward. Genji flits from room to room, sullen. A dark rain cloud over his head; not unlike the one that followed Eeyore around in the old children’s cartoons.

“I can’t believe you’re still working, does no one take time off?”

Hanzo sighed, “Everyone takes appropriate time off, those of us with more responsibilities do so when there aren’t large projects going on.”

“So just you.”

“I don’t have a need to frolic in the frozen slush and sing along to shitty pop remixes of Christmas carols.”

Genji grumbled, picking at his scrambled eggs, and Hanzo went back to his emails. 

* * *

Zenyatta arrives in the early afternoon, a gentle smile on his face and little else in hand, and Genji’s mood turns over a full 180.

Had Hanzo not known Zenyatta was a former monk, he’d have assumed he was a saint, with his endless patience and tolerance of tomfoolery.

Still, he’s thankful for the distraction, despite the...eyeful he gets.

Genji lifts Zenyatta and pulls him into a messy kiss, and Hanzo grimaces, taking Zenyatta’s lone shoulder bag (long discarded at the door) and scuttling away to set it in its place.

There’s only so much of watching his brother suck face that he can stand. 

When the morning turns to long suffering, the lovebirds separating long enough for Genji’s joy to turn to pestering. For constant requests of ‘quality time’ and ‘movie night’ and ‘let’s put up more Christmas lights, brother!’ to get too persistent.

He escapes.

He winds up at the Bakery yet again.

Jesse’s small glint of a smile over the crowd of heads lights an ember somewhere deep in chest, though he buries it in order to focus on reaming out Jackson for something or other he can’t quite recall. His earpiece echoes back panic and mayhem.

It’s all he can do not to throw it into Jesse’s ovens.

So he holes up in the back, the ovens washing away the ever present chill as he watches Jesse, and sometimes Sombra deal with the swarms of crowds that push through hour on the hour. 

Yet, he can’t help but push off some meetings, ignore a few calls, to sneak out to the counter, to steal a cup of cocoa and chat in between the lazy moments. 

“You don’t do much in half measures do you Hanzo?” McCree says, the two huddled out back, shoulder to shoulder and wrapped in a cloth Jesse called a ‘serape’ for Jesse’s designated smoke break. Snow fell as a steady sleet, the small awning over their heads scarcely providing cover as he typed furiously between bites of a delectable little donut. 

“I cannot afford to. There is too much to do and not enough time to be done in.” He grumbles, and Jesse chuckles.

“Them folks at your job don’t seem like they’re on top of their game, if they’re makin you work through the holidays.”

He hums and goes back to typing. 

Jesse puffs on his cigar, his face shadowed in the warm oranges of the flame and the shadows of a setting sun, and Hanzo’s caught off guard, for a moment, at the stare.

The steel behind the eyes, and how they bore into him.

“What.”

“Ah. Ain’t nothin Han, just wonderin if them folks appreciate you half as much as they should.” Jesse says. “Yer too hard workin, too loyal, fer people like that.”

He’s left reeling, silent as Jesse stubs out his Cigar and lets them back in. 

(It’s an argument that’s been done to death, rehashed and wrung out to dry, broken and mended over and over… after all, hadn’t Genji said near the same only days before?)

It burns. 

Each night, though, ends the same.

With Jesse unveiling a new sweet treat. And Hanzo, running, tail between his legs.

Creamy, decadent éclairs, a tart, sweet Tarte aux Fraises, and Ichigo Daifuku, the mochi shell just chewy enough, and stuffed to bursting with red bean paste and strawberries. 

On the third night of Genji trying (and failing) to steal Hanzo’s treats, he snaps.

“Ok, that’s it!” 

Hanzo grunts around a mouthful of delectable ichigo daifuku, smacking Genji’s. 

“Keep your hands to yourself, brat.”

Genji whines, as expected, clutching his hand to his chest. “I cannot believe!! You sneak off every day and don’t even share-”

“And why should I-” Hanzo grumbled, smushing the now empty box. “They weren’t meant for you.”

“But Jesse never makes me Daifuku….” Genji flops forward, splayed out across the dining table as Zenyatta picks up his plate, deftly avoiding a disaster and lost soup. “This isn’t fair!”

“And here I thought you wanted your brother to spend time with Jesse young sparrow.” Zenyatta chuckles, and Hanzo flushes.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think he’d get all the good stuff, and I’d get nothing! This isn’t fair!” 

“You are ridiculous.” Hanzo stands, stacking empty plates and depositing them in the sink. “Buy your own.”

“High noon Bakery doesn’t sell Daifuku! No one sells Daifuku! I have to go two towns over to get mochi!!”

“The horrors of small town living.” Hanzo smirks and delights in the frustrated groans it gets. 

That Jesse must’ve had to special-order the ingredients isn’t on him.

He wonders.

Zenyatta smiles, petting his fiance’s back as Genji whines.

* * *

The fourth day he tries to escape, to rush to Jesse’s shop and spend the day in a Cocoa filled haze-

And instead gets roped into decorating Genji’s giant tree (and he doesn’t know why he hadn’t done so before, it’s the 22nd of December, for Pete’s sake).

The sheer amount of ornaments Genji had stored in his home was..alarming.

Surrounded on all sides by tinsel and sparkling baubles.

It’s maddening.

Luckily (or unlucky, in his case), most of his co-workers have begged off, so he has no meetings to miss in favor of this nonsensical inanity. 

A wasted opportunity. 

His mind drifts, as Zenyatta speaks on and on about the proper construction of a well-organized tree, to the last night.

_ “Iffin you’re wantin’, come in early tomorrow, we’re only open a half day, so it’ll be slower.” _

_ Jesse had murmured the night before, warm, broad hands brushing against Hanzo’s as he offered the Daifuku. “Maybe...we could do something after? Go ice skating?” _

_ Hanzo near bit his lip in half, nodding. “Yes, I- that sounds—nice.” _

_ Jesse grins, a wide and brilliant thing, and claps Hanzo’s shoulder, warmth seeping through the thick material. _

_ Hanzo could hardly hide his shudder. _

_ “It’s a date, see you then partner.”  _

He had plans! And yet, here he was, wasting time trying to get a popcorn lanyard around a tilting fern!

Genji, ignorant to his struggles (as usual), pranced around in a dark blue sweater, a garish red and green trim decorating the borders. 

Upon his chest, staring back at Hanzo with vacant, soulless eyes, sat a mermaid santa, seashell bra covering his rather...bountiful chest and matching candy cane striped tail swishing down across his stomach. 

The train station Santa came back to mind, and he groaned, wrapping the garland loop a tad too viciously. 

At least Zenyatta wore a simpler jumper of Rudolph in sunglasses and holding an ‘oh deer’ sign. 

Genji shoves a sky monstrosity into his hands, covered in sharks and embroidered with a Boxer ‘Santa’ punching a great white in the mouth. 

“No.”

“Yes!”

“It is rather festive.” Zenyatta chimes in.

He wants nothing more than to run screaming.

He’s threatened with his high school photos (“ _ you know the ones, _ Hanzo, don’t you make me.” Genji taunts) being shown to Jesse before he yields. 

He thought he had those destroyed.

The cheap wool itches against his neck.

Time crawls by, High Noon’s closing time inching closer (he isn’t checking his phone obsessively. Genji, shut the fuck up.) as the tree fills up with silver tinsel, rainbow lights, and multiple strands of popcorns garlands. 

Zenyatta has just passed him a box full to the brim with candy canes and plastic round baubles when the door creaks open.

“Genji, I swear, What’s the emergency-”

_ OH NO _

“Jesse! About time you got here! C’mon we haven’t even finished half the tree yet! Move, move! And put on your mandatory sweater!”

_ Interfering, hopeless- _

Hanzo whips around, a few candy canes falling to the ground and cracking, sacrifices in the war of kicking sibling ass.

He doesn’t quite make it in time, as Genji shoves a horrific sweater into Jesse’s arms, though he smacks him upside the head anyway.

Genji pinches his arm in revenge, the smuggest look of victory splashed across his face, but Hanzo’s attention flies out the window as soon as Jesse unfolds the thing.

The dark green of the sweater is gorgeous against Jesse’s skin, but the design could melt a nun’s eyes from their skull.

Santa, in homage of Kim Kardashian’s iconic photo set, pushing his red covered ass out, glass on his ass and milk carton in his hand, an arc of fluid pouring over his hat covered head, wide, vacant smile horrifying to any in near view.

Where did Genji even get these things?

“Well, that’s another one for the collection.” Jesse guffawed, pulling the abomination over his head, and Hanzo squeaks as the movement makes his hair even  _ fluffier. _

Their eyes meet, yet again. 

Genji snorts, breaking the moment before it even starts and shoving a hand against Jesse’s chest. “You, lover boy, need to speed the hell up, leaving my bro to do all the heavy lifting alone. I swear-”

Hanzo sputters, grabbing Genji by the (ostentatious) sweater and tosses him somewhere else.

Judging by the rancorous laughter behind him (“Aniki whyyyyyyy-” and “Dearest you mustn’t tease”) he’s failed.

“I apologize for his-” He starts, flush spreading yet again, before Jesse interrupts.

“Hey now, ain’t like it’s my first rodeo with Genji’s antics.” Jesse drawls, leaning against the doorframe, carefree as ever, and Hanzo stills, staring up into bright, mischievous eyes. 

Jesse grins, lighting the cigar wrapped stubbornly between his stupid, pretty lips; and hums. “Looks like we both got lassoed into the job, huh?”

“Apparently.” He chuckles, “It seems we have put our plans on hold.”

Jesse tilts his head, eyes narrowed, taking in Hanzo’s ridiculous sweater and the scene going on behind him before he steps forward, taking Hanzo’s hands in his. “I don’t see why we can’t make a bit of fun here.”

Hanzo stares down, squeezes, feels the warmth, the strength in Jesse’s hands, see’s the bare traces of flour dusting his wrist, leftover from the bakery, and grins.

“I don’t see why not.”

* * *

The afternoon bleeds to evening, Christmas carols blasting on a small radio Jesse set up as the small group poked and prodded at the large, tilting tree. 

Jesse adds large, red bows along the bottom, center and top rows, making the lopsided tree look somewhat organized in the haphazard mess, and adds a golden lining to the bottom.

Zenyatta and Genji string the room with fairy lights, leading up and down the halls till the entire house is filled with flickering white lights.

It’s a headache lying in wait.

Hanzo digs out a small stepladder, buried under Genji’s mess of a storage closet and caked in  _ absolute filth.  _ (They have to power hose the thing before he’s willing to even step foot on it) Before stepping up to force the star onto the top of the tree.

The ladder teeters.

He yelps, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to stay upright before a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and pulls him straight up.

“Hold up there Darlin’, don’t go fallin’ and bashin’ your head open.” 

He curses, looking down, and finds Jesse looking back up, squeezing just a bit tighter as their eyes meet. 

“Thank you for the assistance, Jesse.”

“Anytime Darlin’, want to get that star up before we get you down from the ladder a death?”

He nods, and, fumbling for a moment, slips the plastic star onto the top of the tree. 

He sighs, sagging against Jesse, letting himself bleed into the warmth and watch the tree blink to life, Zenyatta turning on the extension cord somewhere in the room.

A rainbow of colors shines, reflecting off the glass baubles and onto the walls. 

It’s bright enough to blind any poor soul that looks upon it with no eyewear, and Hanzo stares, unblinking.

It’s glorious.

The arms around his waist squeeze again, and in a moment he’s lifted off his perch, yelping as Jesse laughs, swinging him around before settling him down on the plush carpeted ground. 

“There we are.” Jesse laughs, face resting into the crook of Hanzo’s neck, a puff of warm breath grazing the skin. “Isn’t that a sight?”

Hanzo tilts his head to see Jesse staring back at him, and leans back into him, watching Genji and Zenyatta do the same across the room. 

“Yes, yes it is.”

* * *

As the night winds down, and dinner decimated and warm, spiked eggnog downed, he pulls out a small, ornate box.

He stole it years ago, before buying the house, but after Hanzo had got his own snooty apartment in the city. 

He hadn’t opened it in who knows how long, though.

Zen nods, moving to clear the boxes as he shuffled over to Hanzo, his brother and Jesse cuddled together on his loveseat.

And Hanzo was  _ insisting _ they weren’t a thing.

Yeah. Ok.

When pigs fly Anija.

“Oy, Hanzo, got another ornament for you to put up.” He smirked, holding out the box.

(He was trying, trying so hard not to shake, dammit)

“Are you never done with these foolhardy-” Hanzo grumbled, snapping out of his lovely dovely chit-chat with Jesse with a glare before dropping off- his eyes widening to bug like quantities.

“Is? That-”

The box shined in the low light, lacquered cherry wood, carved with dragon detailing and gold trim reflecting Hanzo’s astonished face back at him.

Genji could only imagine what he was thinking.

He thought back to short-lived Christmases, a tiny tree in a high-rise apartment years ago, with a nanny and parents long gone to meetings. 

Of an older brother that hadn’t given up yet.

He pushes the box into Hanzo’s lap, ignoring the startled yelp. 

“Well? Open it!” He laughs, trying to smooth over the tremble in his voice.

Hanzo is a statue, staring blankly at the box like it’s a bomb set to go, before Jesse nudges him- and it’s like he’s a wind-up toy, at least till the latch flicks open.

Three fragile, small dragons, hand blown and dainty, lay flat in crushed velvet, chipped and covered in scratches.

One Gold and green, Two Silver and blue.

“How-”

“I stole em.”

Hanzo gaped at Genji, standing with a smirk on his face. “YOU what?”

“Well, dad was just gonna toss them, why not?”

Hanzo sputters, staring between the ornaments and his crazy, pick-pocket brother before Jesse pats his back.

“How about you two put ‘em up?”

The dragons join the star, just atop the tree and shining in the light, and for once, standing next to his brother, his fiance, and his best friend, the holidays feel complete.

Only just barely, though.

* * *

The next day Hanzo wakes at 5 am and escapes before Genji stirs. 

He wishes Zenyatta a good morning on the way out, trudging through the snow heavy sidewalks before he stumbled into the Bakery, Jesse opening the door and squeezing him tight before locking it behind him.

“Ready?”

Hanzo nods, re-tying his hair with the new sash Genji had thrust on him the night before (“Jesse likes red” He snarked, before getting a quick twist to the ear), shedding his large jacket.

“Let’s get started.”

Jesse has already gotten started ahead of time, all the bakeries stock ready or baking before Hanzo even set foot into the establishment. 

There’s a large assortment of ingredients out on Jesse’s usual prep table, the usual flour and baking soda and brown sugar and such, along with molasses and spices. 

He cocks an eyebrow and turns. 

“I assume we won’t be ice skating today, then?”

Jesse laughs.

* * *

Making gingerbread cookies is not so difficult, at least baking is soothing.

He may be a bit biased though, having a handsome baker by his side helping him.

“So now you wanna add the butter-”

“Yes, 2 cups, right?”

“No, it’s one cup darlin.”

“Um….Jesse?”

“....Darlin, please tell me you didn’t.”

Hanzo lifts the recipe Jesse handed him, one finger jabbing at the center of the page. “Then why is it written here”

“Han, we’re usin half that recipe I told you-” Jesse says, half between bursts of laughter, “We didn’t need so much-”

“Well now what!!?”

“Hang on, we can fix it-”

“We can’t remove melted butter, Jesse! It’s ruined!”

(Jesse, after laughing himself hoarse against the floor, explained you can just double  _ everything. _ )

* * *

The rest of the cookie making goes easier.

That may be because Hanzo forced Jesse to write every single step down, but one can never be too careful.

Rolling out the dough and cutting out the shapes ahead of time is an exercise in creativity, and Hanzo makes a Cowboy, a Monk, a Ninja, and a Samurai. 

Jesse takes the important task of cutting the base, walls, and roof shapes for the home, including the chimney. There’s a whole host of rectangles taking shape, along with the slanted pieces that the roof pieces sit on before it all goes in the oven.

The icing comes next, and after Hanzo sifts the powdered sugar, he uses the mixer to get a consistency that Jesse approves of.

The cookies done, re-cut, and on the cooling rack, Jesse shows him how to melt white chocolate (for the main glue, he says), using a simple double boiler.

Hanzo understands none of it, but considering he almost ruined their batter once already, he follows Jesse’s instructions to the letter. 

During their setup, the first shift starts, and Hanzo watches as a tall, dark-skinned man in a beanie takes over the counter after waving Jesse over and slamming a Santa hat onto his head.

Jesse flushed, his skin darkening under the warm lights, and from the distance Hanzo could see them squabble for a moment before he stormed back, bullying Hanzo into the opposite side of the kitchen (out of sight, he notes) before getting them started on decorating and assembling the house. 

“A friend?” He asks, watching Jesse’s cheeks flush dark as the hat on his head.

“My pa, he helps during the busy season.” Jesse explains.

Oh.

“I didn’t know this was a family business.” He says, pouring icing into the bags.

“Yeah, Gabe adopted me and Som after we were his fosters for a while, we just ended up sticking around. Jack’s the town Sheriff, but we’ll see him come in to embarrass Gabe later on.” Jesse rambles, eyes crinkling up and betraying the beginnings of crow’s feet. 

“That...sounds wonderful.” He says, and Jesse nods, closing off another bag of icing before they start. 

He makes a few mistakes; the chocolate becoming visible on the outside, but Jesse laughs it off, placing the chimney onto the roof with tweezers, brushing the white chocolate onto the roof and sticking them in place.

Soon the frame is solid and settled, and Hanzo gets to decorate.

The roof gets ‘tiled’ with gumdrop and lined with snow, the frosting clumping in spots, though Jesse turns them into convincing icicles. The walls get little peppermint windows, and the front door a gorgeous little heart as its doorknob.

“Well look at that, ain’t you an artist.” Jesse croons, and he preens under the praise, finishing the heart with a little ‘flick’.

“I always enjoyed architecture and design. Though a gingerbread house never occurred to be a use of such talent.” He scoffs. 

“Well, you got quick the eye for it Mr. Shimada.” Jesse says, pulling out a chilled, pre-made wreath of green fondant, along with finely crafted red ribbons. “Would you do me the honor of choosing a place for these decorations?”

He laughs.

Eventually, they get to the last details, the ‘snow’ on the roof, some loose tiles. 

Jesse sticks his tongue between his lips, struggling with a stubborn gumdrop as Hanzo piled frosting atop the roof (if only to get that snowy Christmas look). And ends up staring.

And staring.

The gumdrop sticks, and Jesse cheers, shouting in elation before yelping.

“Han the roof!”

(And if the gingerbread house was...lopsided, well, that was for them to know, and no one else to find out.)

Along with a lot of icing to hide the damage.

* * *

Hanzo misses the rest of his meeting for the rest of the day.

He can’t bring himself to care.

Not when he’s standing up front with Jesse, Sombra, and Gabe, learning how to pack cakes and just...being.

Not when the lunch rush fades, and Gabe kicks them out.

Not when Jesse makes good on his promise and leads him to the local ice rink.

He puts his phone on silent, shoved deep in his pockets and ignored. 

They spend the evening spinning circles on the flaky, lined ice, children screaming around them.

Jesse clings to the side rail, eyes glued to the floor and unable to even look at Hanzo for the first half hour.

“This was your idea McCree, don’t tell me you dont know how to skate.” Hanzo says, spinning around and nudging into McCree, sending him tumbling.

Jesse lands on his ass, groaning.

“Cmon there, Darlin, haven’t been in years. Give a man some slack.”

Hanzo slides to a stop in front of Jesse, crouching to offer him a hand. “Very well, perhaps this time I can teach you something?”

Jesse grins and takes Hanzo’s hand.

He doesn’t let go.

His phone rings on.

* * *

“That was insane! What was that spinning move you did? Near the end?”

“It’s called a Camel spin.” Hanzo smiles, twinning his fingers with Jesse’s as they walk. 

“Don’t think most people know how to do that.” Jesse hums, “Only ever saw it on the tv for the olympics.” and Hanzo feels the question.

“I took classes in my youth.” He says, “My mother enjoyed the sport, and employed private tutors, though Genji never took to it.”

Jesse whistles. “So you can do them fancy jumps too, huh?”

Hanzo laughs, sharp and just on the side of brittle, “No...no. It has been too long for that.”

He hasn’t stepped foot on the ice in years before today. 

“Really? You took to it like a fish to water.”

“Years of training, despite my...lack of it in recent years.” They slow, turning onto Genji’s street.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind gettin’ to watch again, if you don’t mind Darlin’.”

“Who said you would be only watching?”

“Aw c’mon Darlin’, I can barely stand! Had to hold on to you for dear life.”

“And you will never learn that way.” 

“Have mercy, Darlin.”

“Never.” He chuckles. 

“Mean sunuvva’ bitch” Jesse grumbled as they walked up the driveway, the fresh-laid snow crunching under their feet. “You’re a prickly one, ain’t ya?”

“You knew that when Genji moved in.” he retorted, pulling ahead, but getting pulled back by a firm hand.

“Maybe I did.” Jesse says, pointing up with his free hand, and Hanzo follows his finger—

Oh-

Above him, In the entryway where it hadn’t been that morning, was a fresh sprig of mistletoe.

_ Genji. _

He groaned, biting off the sound before as Jesse laughed, the sound warm and rich as the cocoa he made every morning.

“Well ain’t that be all.” Jesse murmurs, his eyes soft.

“Yes...it is.”

Jesse drifts closer, and though he’s holding his hand firm, the other comes and cups his cheek, a gentle, comforting pressure.

Hanzo tips forward, knocking their foreheads together at the last moment, and they still, breaths mingling in the cold winter air.

Jesse bites his lip, and Hanzo’s breath hitches, and-

Their lips meet. 

It’s just a touch. Soft, chaste even. The press of wide, dry, cracked lips against his, the barest pressure, before Jesse’s pulling away, and he’s left teetering.

_ Oh. _

Jesse tips his hat, the bullet casings glittering in the low light, and kisses the back of Hanzo’s hand before stepping back.

“G’night Han. Sweet dreams.”

Jesse turns and walks away, and-

“Good night, Jesse.”

McCree waves over his shoulder, and a weight falls off Hanzo’s shoulders.

* * *

“I expected better from you.”

“I understand, but I don’t see how one da-”

“It is not one day. The entire week! I am getting reports of you skipping calls, reduced output. Work left completely unfinished! You are the only person I trust can get this done, and you are playing hooky with your brother! Why did you even go to that tiny, back-water town I don’t understand-”

Hanzo bites his lip, hand fisted in his pant leg as Sojiro continued to yell over the phone.

Genji hovers, but can’t seem to find his voice.

“I will arrange your flight to Hanamura for the new year. For now, return to the company, immediately, and  _ fix _ this  _ mess  _ you’ve made.” Sojiro hisses, and the line goes dead.

“He can’t be serious.” Genji gapes, “You can’t…”

“He is, and I must.” Hanzo says, knuckles gone white, fist wrapped tight around his phone.

“You don’t have to do anything! You don’t have to go to fucking Japan because you didn’t work for one day-”

“GENJI!” Hanzo shouts and deflates in the same moment “I- There is only so much I can get away with. Your freedom has a price.”

Genji snarls, “That doesn’t mean you being chained to a desk your entire life! That taking a day off for a date gets you-”

“That’s how it is.” 

Genji slumps, falling back into his seat.

“What about Jesse?”

“What about him?”

“Hanzo, I have a ring camera.”

He groaned, sinking his face into his hands. 

“You can’t just- this is going so good for you two-”

“So you would have me continue a relationship from Hanamura? For who knows how long father will keep me there?”

“But…”

Hanzo sighed, thinking of Jesse, who was knee deep in last-minute customers.

Who thought Hanzo would come to the shop again.

Whose heart he was going to break.

“It won’t work, Genji. And that’s as far as this discussion goes.”

He leaves, and the silence descends again.

By the time he’s packed, his train ticket is in his inbox. 

Genji drops him to the train station.

“You don’t have to go.”

“Would you rather?”

“Fuck no.”

Hanzo laughs, short and bitter.

“This isn’t fair. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re leaving. It’s bullshit.”

“Perhaps, but it is what it is.”

Genji nods, buried in his horrid orange scarf (like a carrot, he thinks), and Hanzo ruffles his hair, earning a squawk of protest. “Go enjoy your night, tell Zenyatta I will miss his company.”

Genji nods, and he steps onto the train, meeting eyes with the vacant stare of the inflatable Santa once again as the train sets off. 

Its vacant eyes, once again, giving him no answers as Genji disappeared from sight, the town becoming a blip on the horizon. 

* * *

Not a week away, and one foot into the office and he’s accosted on all sides. 

Ogundimu has near a hundred forms that have been misplaced in the time he’s been gone, as if his team is incompetent, and Hanzo has a headache in the first ten minutes of listening to him drone on about ‘mergers’.

Yes, we know, it’s the same merger that’s been going on for a year Akande.

He doesn’t even understand who bungled the deal with Dr. Kuiper so badly, but his inventions are something that the company depends on, and Hanzo dives headfirst into the mess.

Moira sweeps by and offers him some of her insights, and he brushes her off and gets to work.

By the time he’s done untangling the complete mess his office has become, it’s 5 pm on the next day, the rest of the office has cleared out and his phone has a new set of messages. 

It’s a set of pictures, a small, intimate Christmas Party. He thinks Genji is taking the first photo, though the camera switches hands often. 

Genji, Zenyatta, Sombra, Gabe, Reinhart, and a few more that Hanzo does not know by name, all wrapped around the kitchen table, the Christmas tree he helped decorate. 

Jesse is in every photo.

His breath catches, caught somewhere between his lungs and lips as he tries to drink in every detail. 

He still has that silly hat on, but there’s a new mistletoe sprig tucked into the band and a small downward tilt to his mouth that his Hanzo’s chest twisting like a knife.

He missed it. 

He knows… he knew, when he left, that he would miss Christmas morning.

Miss being there.

He didn’t think it would ache like this.

To see the life that Genji had built, and what he had been welcomed into...and what he had to abandon.

“You are an imbecile, mon chere.”

“Amélie.” Hanzo looks up, meeting a gaze as cold as steel. “I thought you were in Paris for the holiday.” 

“I was until Satya suggested a change of pace. I brought gifts.” 

“Not much of a change of pace, you live here.” Hanzo snorts, taking the small, elegant box, wrapped in flouncy golden paper. 

“Ungrateful, next time I won’t bring you anything.”

“You’d be better off.” He smirks, setting the box to the side.

Amelie frowned.

Hano never waited to open her gifts.

“Are you on a diet? Or have your taste buds died?”

“I...would rather not today, Amélie.” He mumbles. “It’s been a long day.”

“Ah, yes, cutting your vacation short, working through the night and into Christmas Day, oui, you’ve ruined quite a bit of your time, haven’t you.”

“I haven’t-”

“Yes, you have. You don’t think the news has spread of your transfer? All for what? So you can sulk like a child,”

He shook his head, hair coming free of his ponytail, frazzled. His suit stuck to his skin. “I...found something worth not being chained to the desk for.”

“Then why are you still here? You’ve hated this place for years, Hanzo. How long have you wanted to quit?”

“But-”

“Genji will not get dragged back now after this long, Stop being a moron, working through every holiday and becoming a bitter old man. Just go.”

He gapes, staring up at his friend before blinking at the box, thinking of the brown paper wrapping of Jesse’s gifts, the sweets and the hand made desserts.

The gingerbread house they worked together to make, mistakes and all. 

A family business that felt like family. 

A home that felt...full.

An apartment with nothing but his cloths. 

Setting foot on the ice for the first time in  _ years _ . 

Amélie smirks.

“Well, mon chere?”

* * *

The doorbell goes off at ass crack o’clock, and Genji groans. 

Zenyatta turns over and falls back asleep, and the bell rings again.

“I’m coming! I’m coming! Goddamn, fucking insane people..” He grumbles, rolling out of bed and waddling to the door. 

Whoever it was should be glad he was wearing anything at all.

“The hell time you think-” He starts, pulling the door open with a snap, ready to cuss out the poor soul who thought they could wake him up at six am- 

“Hanzo?”

There on his fucking porch, four days after he up and left.

With a thousand or so bags and boxes at his feet.

Hanzo looks at him, in a pair of sweatpants and a ratty ass t-shirt, and Genji’s  _ never _ seen him this disheveled-

Hanzo opens his mouth, closes it again, and then blurts out, like he’s shocked by his own boldness. 

“I quit.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

* * *

The shop closed with little fanfare tonight, Gabe dealing with the morning rush so he could manage the evening without hassle. 

He’s locking up, saying a late goodnight as Reinhardt walks away, taking the last of the shortbread cookies with him, when he sees a figure standing in the shadows. 

“We’re closed for the night, come back at 7 tomorra, we’ll get ya set up then.” He mumbles, fumbling with the keys, his prosthetic catching in his glove’s loose stitches. 

“I was hoping I could speak with you.”

Jesse stiffens, chest twisting painfully. He stands, staring at the man hidden in shadows.

Hanzo stepped out of the dark, small bag slung over his shoulder and more dressed down than Jesse had ever seen him, a wry smile on his face. 

“I thought you left.” He says, pulling himself to full height.

He remembered Genji coming to his shop in the afternoon, slumped and defeated; tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Zenyatta explaining, over Genji’s catatonic state, Hanzo’s transferral.

And the reason behind it.

He remembered how he had kissed him goodnight.

“I did.” Hanzo rasps, and Jesse winces, like he can feel the hours of yelling he must have gone through to get to where it is now.

“Sounds like you’ve had a bit of a day.”

“That’s an understatement.” Hanzo shrugs. “I quit.”

Jesse blinks. “You what?!”

“I quit. I realized I was miserable, and I have skills that I can use elsewhere.” Hanzo says, like its nothing, like he could just walk out of a multi-million dollar company without looking back-

“Why?” He gasps, talking a half step forward out of reflex, grasping his shoulder and shaking Hanzo like a rather flimsy rag-doll. “Hanzo why are you- you were barely here a week what are you thinking!? Leaving your job? Your company? For what?”

He couldn’t-

Not for this tiny place.

Not for him.

“It was a mistake, leaving.” Hanzo spits out, like the action physically hurts, slapping Jesse’s hand away.

Jesse gasps a ragged breath, lungs in tatters- “Hanzo- what are you-”

“I’ve made many mistakes” Hanzo continues, like he isn’t even talking, stomping over his words and crowding into his space. “and this...is not one I wanted to make...or worsen.”

His eyes widen, confused, as Hanzo reaches into the bag and reveals a small, elegant box, offering it to Jesse. 

“What the hell’s this?”

“I know I did not make them myself, but I couldn’t hope to match your proficiency. I hope you enjoy them, nonetheless.”

Jesse stares, the small box, with French script and a little gold ribbon, a row of elegant Macarons visible through the clear plastic- and looks at Hanzo.

Hanzo, in ratty sweatpants, too thin shirt, and barely zipped up jacket. Hair loose and held at the nape in a short elastic band. Dark, heavy bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept since Jesse last saw him.

Just as handsome as the first time they met, surly scowl and all.

“Moron.” He laughs, grabbing Hanzo by the wrist and pulling him in. 

Hanzo doesn’t fight it.

He pushes forward, the box dropped, forgotten, as they slam into one another, arms wrapped around one another and Jesse laughs, deep in his chest, and Hanzo echoes it, till they’re a giggling mess. 

This time, it’s Hanzo who points out the mistletoe hanging from Jesse’s entryway, and there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes.

There’s no hesitation this time. 

The kiss is heat, and passion, and an ‘I missed you’ and ‘don’t you fucking leave again’ and if his head was spinning from the first, that gentle thing, he’s lost in a torrent with this one.

By the time he surfaces, Hanzo is groaning deep in his chest, and Jesse can’t help but laugh. 

Hanzo bites him for that. 

Rude.

“Yer a mean sunnuva bitch.” He hisses, wiping a speck of blood from his lower lip. 

“You like it.” Hanzo grins.

Lord, he does.

* * *

New year’s in a small town is...cozy. 

There aren’t many other words Zenyatta would use to describe it. He’d lived in monasteries and temples, metropolitans and slums and all manner of places.

This small home, this small town, with his love and his friends. 

It’s far grander than any view from a private jet could give him. 

Genji, setting up the latest Die Hard on the tv, Sombra puttering around in the kitchen with the eggnog and some sort of rum. 

And now, there was a new, permanent addition to the family. 

Hanzo curled up, like a lazy cat stretched out across a patch of Sun, on Jesse’s lap. 

Zenyatta smiled, a gentle thing, and settled in for the next few hours.

He had to watch Bruce Willis beat people up after all. 

* * *

.Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's HERE!!!!!!
> 
> Also, if anyone's interested in seeing these amazing/horrible ugly sweater, i will oblige.  
> They are real, and they are amazing.   
> I love them.


End file.
